Enchantment Ends, Revenge Begins
by Chrissy Renee Pinto
Summary: Arthur allowed the enchantment to continue unhindered, for that he must pay. Vivivan and her friend Alexia will be the ones to demand retribution. However, will it turn to love and respect. Merlin/OC, Arthur/Vivian Please R/R.
1. The Plot

**Loved Vivian/Arthur. Hence hated the ending and the whole treatment of her. For the purpose of this story, she is awesome.  
**

The wind swept across the land, the midnight air cool to the touch. The moon guided her with silver light that added a subtle brilliance to the world. Hands tightened on her horses reigns. The corner of head thrummed with steady urgency, it tainted her sweat and was timed to the beat of her heart. The castle loomed ahead, allowing her to release a small breath. The horse was encouraged to a slower gallop.

The doors opened for her entrance, she was welcomed. Footsteps rapid on the floor, purposeful. The head of the cloak slipped backwards. Fire from the torches danced in her eyes that held too much seriousness for a young girl, especially one with a girly pout and a youthful face. "Where is she?" Questioned with sharp curtness, there was a child-like impudence that carried her words. "Lady Vivian is in the Lord's chambers." The guard bowed in courtesy. The girl marched forward, betraying not a single emotion.

Once the door had been opened for her, the concern and anxiety that had been subdued below the surface of her cool façade bloomed on her face. " Vivian!" Murmured with sisterly affection. The girl looked up from her place on the floor, red-rimmed and puffy eyed. A wretched helplessness seemed to have swallowed her beauty and proud stature.

"Vivian, what has happened?" Demanded of her gently, placating, holding out her hands to offer solace. Weakly, the poor girl made a grab for them, holding on for dear life. "Father." Vivian sniveled, "An attack was made on his life. He nearly didn't survive."

The girl gave her a look of understanding, support and it helped some of the grief to recede.

"Did they catch the man responsible?"

Overcome with fitful shakes, Vivian could only move her head from side to side.

"But I know the man that is to blame, Alexia." Voice hardens, a simmering, bitter rage creeps clearly into her tone.

Alexia's gaze is locked mutely on her friend whose eyes resemble twin peaks of an exploding volcano; ominous, dark and wrathful. She need not ask. It will be supplied and the man would meet his punishment.

"Arthur Pendragon!"

A cold shiver descends Alexia's spine yet it fails to submerge the appeasing smirk that twists her lips into a sinister expression.

**Review if you want more!**


	2. The Beginning

**Apparently from the lack of reviews, there are no fans of the pair****ing. Never mind, will write for my muse!**

"So King Olaf invited you to spend a few days at the castle!" Merlin started, following the crown prince. Arthur grunted in response, but Merlin knew from experience that he was making a very discourteous face. "Hopefully she will restrain herself." Arthur muttered. "If she does not, Do you have an alternative plan?" Merlin inquired casually, "Might I suggest barricading your door at night, keeping a knife under your bed or sleeping in the servant's quarters." The last suggested ended in an impish snigger.

"Merlin."

"Yes Arthur!"  
"If you do not shut up, I will give you to lady Vivian and tell her to do with you as she pleases. You do remember how she treated my things the last time."

Pleasure rippled on Arthur's face as dismay flashed on his servant, he did quite like it when he reminded the errant boy of his place. King Olaf opened his arms in greeting, as customary to meet them on arrival at the entrance. "Welcome Arthur." He beamed. Carefully hidden was the weariness that corroded his bones and the fitful apprehensions that thrummed in his veins. "I hope your stay is a pleasant one."

"I am sure it will be most pleasurable." Arthur shook his hand, noting with a small wave of relief that Vivian was not beside her father. "May I ask about the state of the lady Vivian."

"Vivian." A guarded, wary light shone in his eyes though his features remained relaxed and cheery, "She is keeping on splendidly." Then, quickly jumped to another topic as they walked up the stairways into the castle.

Merlin let his eyes wander the tall towers of gleamed marble and silver decor. It was a sight. Until his gaze fell upon a lady at the window on the middle tower, a silent specter with a ladylike countenance but an undercurrent of uniqueness. There is an edge about her that he cannot fathom the reason for discerning as she resembles the delicate, silent beauty of a bog flower.

Nevertheless, her watchful gaze is more than a bit disconcerting and the coolness of it is almost troubling. Their eyes hold steady for a brief moment. "Merlin!" Arthur yelled, awakening him from his daze. Eyes flicker away and in that time, she has vanished into her chambers. "Will you hurry up?" Annoyance blaring in Arthur's call. Merlin obeyed in a mad dash, the girl forgotten in the pursuit of catering to Arthur's whims.

**Review if only for the sake of a poor author.**


	3. The preparations

**Once again I will have to suffice without reviews. Seriously it feels like no one is interested in my story.****  
**

She turned away from the window; the brilliant hues of the boy, the sparkle of the sun reflected in his eyes haunted her. The window side had become her post since news reached her that Arthur Pendragon would be arriving shortly. When the man came under her purview, it was understood why Vivian's infatuation hadn't alerted anyone to the possibility that it was a sickness rather than a youthful interest. Certainly, he was handsome as Princes were inclined to be and his carriage spoke of a noble, confident air but there was also a gentle compassion that few shared, protected for the weak and the deserving. Nevertheless, she would do what needed to be done. First impressions were as deceiving as chameleons in their habitat; their purpose was to blend in the backdrop.

"Alexia, Has Arthur arrived?" The girl in question blinked, the voice bringing her attention to the frightened girl curled on her bed. "Yes, Vivian. He has arrived and your father has greeted him."

Vivian hugged herself, the corners of her eyes misty as her gaze is remote and shuttered. The pain is not visible neither is the bitter humiliation that gnaws her insides to shreds, fueling her anger. What must have been whispered in corners, talked about in shadows and mocked in the security of anonymity, to venture a guess was indeed a cruel game to play even in jest. It was just by luck that she was Olaf's daughter that a wall of silence protected her but no wall is ever truly solid, some of the words filtered through leaving her with a tart feeling of disgrace. There had been no effect when she was submerged in the throngs of her 'Arthur passion' but the release was equally soul shattering.

There was damage done to her reputation, pain inflicted on her father and their image as a proud, unblemished nobility was besmirched. Surely, one who knew the Lady Vivian could expect her to wield her insufferable and haughty nature with greater flourish. To set about forcing order in her little world through insults and disparaging words of an unladylike nature. Surprisingly, she showed restraint. For Alexia, whose entwined paths were that of near sisters, it was a feat and displayed a hidden reserve of strength. More so when her friend called on her, seeking favor, more importantly retribution for the affliction that is callous for any girl to be held a captive of..

"What is your plan?" There is hard edge to her query, eyes solid like glittering ice. Alexia had taken a seat at her dressing table where the required items had been laid out. Now she proceeded to work her magic in the pursuit of what she believed was justice for ladies that have been wronged. There was a glint of something akin to malice in liquid eyes, the colour of chestnuts in the spring.

"Arthur is of the arrogant opinion that it is within his birthright for women to be completely enamored with him." The tone is not innocently conversational, there is an undercurrent of rancor and malevolent intent. The latter bought on by the indignation that is shared between the two women. It was quite infuriating when obnoxious buffoons exerted vile dominance over innocent women without reference to honour or respect.

Vivian features soften measurably as the threads of dislike in Alexia's words touch her heart, a sign she is not alone. Nevertheless, the harsh coldness continues to tint her facile sullen, occupying a side of the mirror. Alexia can offer no words of comfort, simple vengeance can the words be made more useful for..

It winks at her from the bottom of the bowl. Lips purse in wickedness. "A dash of Belladonna, a sprinkle of rosemary, the freshest water from the womb of the earth and marjoram for balance." Vivian has abandoned her position of comfort and crawled to the foot of the bed. Eyes wide and curious. There were a million questions poised on her lips but she chose silence because to disturb her friend would be ill-advised.

A searing hatred for Arthur Pendragon possessed her and it itched under her skin. The very mention of him caused burning bile to rise to the back of her throat and a sour taste to flood her mouth. The man was very low on her esteem when she first set eyes upon him, now he was at the bottom of the tar pits. What was far more wretched of her fate was his abandonment of her. Certainly, it was understandable that he be so besotted with her that resorting to magic was the only alternative to enter into her good graces. It would not be the first time men have risked everything to be near her, what with a protective dragon for a father.

What invoked strong feelings of complete revulsion and abject fury was the enslavement of her heart for his own uses, then disregarding her when she was most-trapped. It made her blood boil when she considered time wasted, expended pinning after a man not worth his name in gold. Awaken nights when imagination would recreate the glow of the moonlight on his skin, the stars in his eyes. The velvet kisses as luxurious as a mist-kissed rose. His hands, warm and calloused, gentle yet firmly demanding. For all the hope, for whispered promises singing of the beauty of love like a spring breeze. Vivian hated him and desired to destroy him with avid .

To admit that she was afraid would be detrimental to her pursuit, so she kept the secret locked in a box, next to her loneliness and despair.

Like tendrils of ivy, Vivian's anxiousness seeps into her. Eyes shut, lips form the words of the spell and the magic spills from her fingertips.

When her eyes open, a flicker of gold through metal brings up a smile. It is done. Turning her head, Alexia meets Vivian's stare. Simultaneously, their faces are lit by pleasure and wicked mirth. "What are you going to do to him?" The tremor in her voice is discerned as excitement. "You will see!" Alexia smirked; with a sinister edge. For the first time in what seemed like many years, a genuine, heartfelt smile graced Vivian's face, adding a luminosity to her eyes and a colourful pink hue to her paleness.

**If i fail to get one review soon, then I am removing the story.  
**


	4. The First Strike

Faithfully, Alexia awaited the meeting of Arthur beside her brother Nathanial at the appointed time. "So this is **the** Arthur Pendragon." A mocking chuckle in his voice. Alexia bristled but kept her face impassive and disaffected, choosing a simple, tight-lipped smile instead of the harsh words she would otherwise have intended. Surely, her brother would get the hint. "I would like to hear some of the songs. I hear they are quite toe-tapping." Apparently, he did not. Sadly, there was no time for reproach.

Arthur Pendragon was approaching them, the servant trailing behind him and King Olaf. A crooked smile creeps onto her face but it is diminished as they draw near.

"Prince Arthur." Tone is affable and smile perfectly gracious though internally she is seething with malicious intentions. The smile he favoured her with had a very 'effective' quality. Briefly, she wondered why a need would arise for enchantments when there were clearly other talents he possessed that could sway a women to his whims. Of course, Vivian could be impossibly 'difficult', to use the word lightly.

"This is Prince Nathanial and Princess Alexia Ashford. Friends of Vivian." King Olaf introduced them. Alexia smiled prettily, batting her lashes. It would be prudent to allude to his impression that she was just a princess, capable of very little harm. "How is my daughter?" The wrinkles that carved the corner of his eyes, deepened and shadows rolled over the usual formidable vibrancy of his eyes.

An astute person would notice the anxiety that turned like a tidal wave at the mention. Certainly it was behaviour unbecoming of a father, one who especially treasured his only daughter. The normally aggressive and controlling master of the land lived each day on precarious footing; the insecurity carefully concealed under a persona of inflated dominance.

"She is just perfect. Vivian is resting in her chambers and will be all ready to make an appearance for dinner tonight." The subtle worry dissolves replaced by a tint of relief, "Good, I am glad!"

From the corner of her eyes, Arthur and Merlin shift in uncomfortable awkwardness in reaction to news about the girl. "Good, I look forward to seeing her and wishing her well." Voice catching on Arthur's hesitance and fake enthusiasm, the perfunctory angle clumsily covered. Alexia raised a set of mental eyebrows. The man is so blindingly two-faced, first entrapping a girl to only disregard her without provocation. Fleetingly, she thought of mentioning that for many months the northern plains rang of Vivian's serenading music, high and low, sweet and shriekingly adoring, all in Arthur's name. "She will be very happy to hear of your concern." Smiling sweetly, showing off pearly white teeth. His discomfort increases measurably and he turns to telegraph a look to his servant. 'Promise to save me when the need should arise, Merlin.'

As much as the man is of great intrigue, Alexia will ensure Arthur's faith in Merlin will have been misplaced. "I believe another meeting would greatly please her." There is a thread of false exaggeration in her response that is overlooked by all present, even the friendliness shinning vividly in her eyes should be perceived as dishonest.

Maybe Arthur is fooled but Merlin isn't. There were these tell-tale signs, almost imperceptible if one did not meet so many people who were more than the part they played. The pleasant demeanour almost felt like it shadowed something-darker. And the way she looked upon the interactions between Olaf, Nathanial and Arthur, sensed it is as almost predatory.

The heat of his stare doesn't faze Alexia one bit, in fact it gave her a slither of glee for the challenge it presented. The men continued their talk of jousting matches, affairs of the kingdom and all the things that men danced around for.

Alexia bides her time. The opportunity would present itself. It must be fluid and unapparent; the action must invite no questions. They walk for some time. Keeping in pace with them, dividing her attention between the watchful servant and Prince Arthur until the moment was ripe.

The group ambled along, blissfully unaware of the turn of events that would crash and uproot them from their confident standing. Arthur passed the mark. It was a flick of her wrist that set it in motion.

"Ouch!" Arthur said, "Something pricked me or bit me. I am not sure." Rubbing his hand for emphasis. He made as if to move forward. Stopped. Lifted his head to stare into space. A big crease separating his eyebrows lend themselves to the whole feel of puzzled alarm he was emanating. "Arthur, What is it?"Merlin stepped forward, brow furrowed with worry. "What?" Nathanial followed his line of sight to the high tower; the sun gleamed on his marble surface, a testament to impressionable architecture. There was nothing of interest.

Suddenly, a hoarse, frantic shout pierces the quiet air tingling with disquiet. "Vivian!" The strident cry carried to the heavens. Rooted to the spot, eyes wide and rimmed with horrified shock. Surprise cascaded across Olaf's countenance, followed by agitation and then stormy, thundering fury when the reason spilled with crass impudence from Arthur's lips. The smouldering, heated glare was the icy wave of revival that shook Arthur from his hysterical state. Nathanial levelled a look at the prince, perplexed at the sudden disturbing outcry. The prince appeared to have suddenly lost his mind.

"I saw her-Vivian-she jumped." Arthur abruptly shut his mouth, squirming under their stares of varying degrees of incredulity, disbelief and in Olaf's case, indignant anger. Alexia stood by the side, feeding with absolute delight on his expression of helplessness, bewilderment and a barely visible shade of embarrassment. "Arthur, must you be so haughty that you imagine Vivian would kill herself for you?" Smooth, casual, on the brink of jest.

"No!" Arthur directed the response at her, the harshness audible and the annoyed surety clear as sharp crystal, "I saw Vivian jump." "Perhaps you saw what you wanted to see." Was the cool retort, accompanied by a slight tilt of her head as she regarded him openly. Arthur's Adam apple bobbed in his throat; it felt as if she was scrutinizing his character. "Enough!" King Olaf said in a sharp tone that brooked no argument, "Let us just retire for the day."

"Maybe after a good rest, our guest will be refreshed." The cordiality that cradled his voice sounded forced and flimsy and didn't quite reach his eyes which were full of ominous potency. "And Arthur-" Apprehension drenched Arthur's facile for a second.

"I hope to see a better side of you at dinner." With that parting remark, he walked onwards. The group stood still, stunned by indecisiveness. Merlin caught Arthur's eye, questions tumbled in his head and radiated in his eyes. But Arthur looked away and scurried after Olaf. Merlin gave chase to the prince whose frustration rolled off in palpable waves. Nathanial flashed a quizzical look at her before he too left her side. Alexia had kept it submerged, buried under her carefully-constructed facade. Now, a smile flirts at the corners of her lips while pleasure eclipses her eyes, iridescent with joyous mirth.

**Alright, that is the end. Too few reviews. so this story is done!**


	5. Vivian Enters The Scene

She concentrates on breathing, inhaling and releasing it in small breaths. Almost timing it because it diverts focus instead on the rage that twists inside her with the power and force of a tornado. He will be there, waiting. With a countenance of nonchalance and a display of chivalry, inactuality private jeers would accompany the kind words from his conniving tongue. Jaw clenches, a twitch of frustration at the corner. She badly desired the opportunity to pay the prince back in kind. Alexia had started the journey of retribution this afternoon. Fingers experienced spasms of destruction, to wrap her hands around his neck and squeeze.

No, it would be unwise to let her true motives breach the surface of her mask. She would be vivacious. She would be charming. She would also be merciless and unforgiving.

Standing before the door, Vivian readied herself for her entrance. Exhaled on a single rushed breath most of her agitation before proceeding forward. The doors were swung open.

King Olaf looked up, a pleased smile lightning his face. "Vivian, It is wonderful having you join us." It is a conspicuous gesture, her gaze on her beloved father, memorizing the lines of joy and the glow that shaves off years from his weathered face. She plants a kiss on his cheek. Then, with small hesitation makes a move toward the visitor. Arthur is watchful and wary of her. In his expectations, she is to jump into his arms and make proclamations of love, deferring to bewitched promises told with wild abandon.

Vivian feels his gaze upon on her and panic tightens her chest. There is real fear drenching her bones that the magic would posses her again, commander her emotions, thoughts and beliefs into the service of Arthur.

Relief ripples through her body, relaxing the tightly coiled muscles as nothing happens when she meets his gaze. "Arthur." She nods at him, dragging a plastic smile onto her face. Barely does he give her more than a passing glance. All he needs is the reassurance that **she **would not be the cause of his embarrassment, then she is to be forgotten.

The bonfire inside her small body rages on.

Vivian takes her place beside Alexia. The girl turns toward her, understanding and promise clear, reflecting like polished crystal Vivian's own desires. A smile tugs at the corner of Vivian's lips and for a second, both girls look joyous over nothing, an unspoken joke or secret they are naught to share.

"Vivian, I trust you have been well?" Arthur spoke to her equably. "Yes, very well." The plastic smile returns, there is an undertone of dryness and tepidness in her voice, whose usual quality is snide and haughty.

"And how are the affairs at Camelot?"

"They are well." His shoulders sag and the tension seeps from his limbs. Arthur is guarded against some sort of scene, careful in his preparations to disentangle himself from another unfortunate occurrence-like this afternoon. The prince cannot imagine what possessed him to perceive the vision that he had.

Layers of silk, iridescent under the glare of the sun. Shinning like morning stars as they flutter toward the ground. The image is impossibly surreal if not for Vivian's frail body entering his focus. Arms outstretched as if crucified. Her hair tumbling in spirals of gold. The worst was her expression. Absolute love and adoration pierces his very soul, burning and haunted. There is a perverse surrender tainting her facile to a whim for death.

The last few words, the bone-chilling tenacity stronger than the twilight chill across the perilous lands. "I love you, Arthur. I would die for you!" Trickles of icy chill weaves along the length of his spine. It does not affect his outward demeanour but is an unsettling reminder.

A faint smirk caresses the corner of Alexia's lips as she eyes him, conspiratorial interest creeping in. The sliver of tense apprehension in azure eyes hinted at the deduction that thoughts of the unpleasant incident this afternoon had come unbidden. A wave of pleasure washes over her, bathing her in triumph. '_My spell worked perfectly but the hallucinogen needle was simply the beginning_." Eyes narrow in condensed malevolence, '_There will be a lot of trouble to befall you Arthur, just as there have been unspeakable acts against the woman of this world without the hope of justice.'_

**_Specially for gypsy willow. You are my muse!_**


	6. Dinner For Ghouls

Nathanial's intentions are hardly restrained under decorum, an impish furrow to his brow and his eyes glitter in amused mirth with a hint of smugness. He did not feel disappointment for the lack of entertaining antics, it was enough he could throw subtle sneers at the arrogant, haughty blond, who had made him on more than one occasion, the topic of her derisive jeers. "So Arthur, Has much changed since the last time Vivian paid a visit?" The question was posed, exaggerated nonchalance. Vivian stiffened in her seat, dread awashing her skin in cold sweat. Panic tightened her chest. From the deviant glint in his eyes, it is evident that humiliation would befall her before the end of the night.

"There is nothing of importance to report." Displaying slight discomfort at the mention of Vivian's last visit, obviously in recognition of King Olaf, barely did the sideways glances touch on Vivian opting to surreptitiously gauge her father's reaction. "Aside from news which I am sure the king already knows, there is nothing more to tell." Arthur paused to take a bite of his dinner, eyes on his food. Nathanial is unrelenting. "Yes, from what I have heard-you are indeed a great warrior. Probably why you defeated King Olaf in the match. What was the whole point of the joust? I never did quite get the details."

Arthur had bought the goblet to his lips to quench the itch in his throat but at those words, his throat closes and water spills from his lips along with choking sounds. "It was nothing. Just a small misunderstanding." He manages to find his voice. Vivian's lips purse in a tight line while her eyes shine brightly, but it is the kind that overshadows something darker and morose. "Yes." She underlines with a quiet chilliness, an uncomfortable giggle burst forth from her lips, "It was nothing that requires a discussion. You will be wise to leave it alone." Ending with a firm, tart bite of finality. A smile flirts at the corner of his lips, "Does my curiosity offend you?" It is not a question, too much stress on the words, intoning it to the level of a statement.

Alexia pins her brother with an understated glare of warning, forehead lightly creased in restrained anger. "No." Interjecting more force than necessary, "I just feel it is ill-mannered to bring up past **disagreements.**"

It is growing increasingly hard to maintain the atmosphere of amiability. The amber glow of the torches flicker on the walls, dancing in the darkness on the stone, refracted in his ambiguous gaze, lending an aura of obscurity. Vivian felt an involuntary shiver; letting her eyes drop to her food, which suddenly lost its appeal.

"A fight to the death over a disagreement-Well that is plausible. I mean-it is practically commonplace for small 'disagreements' to be solved by a good old fight to the death." There a lazy sort of contemplation to his tone. His shoulders shrug languidly, then he spoke on a stronger note, "Hopefully, we will not be having anymore such 'misunderstandings' here." A crippling wave of coldness crept over her skin and dried out her mouth before another wave crashed over her to set her veins throbbing with fire. Their gazes specifically pierced her body, skewering her as the sacrificial lamb. It couldn't be helped; it is the burden Vivian is compelled to bear, belonging of the fairer sex.

Nathanial eyes the girl over the rim of his goblet, relishing the tangy taste that floods his mouth. King Olaf kept his gaze resting a few minutes on his daughter, anxious fear twisting his stomach into knots that there would be a regurgitation of the mad love for Arthur. Hopefully, there is a better explanation for her withdrawn demeanour. There is a deficient of energy from his usually lively girl, good or bad. She appears almost wooden. Hands tighten into rigid fists against the wooden table. He would not lose his only daughter to a wretched state of despair, not if he could help it. He cast a clandestine glance at the prince, Arthur Pendragon. It simmers dangerously.

Arthur restrains his focus to his meal; enforcing a prior decision to keep his presence in the conversation as distant as possible. If Vivian felt the need to declare her love, he did not want to be mistaken as the encouragement for it.

"And the few fights that you have qualified for-Does that make you knowledgeable on the noble sport? I hardly think so." Alexia asserted, reproach and condescension layering her voice like frost. Nathanial's brows slacken into a calm, unreadable expression but not before giving her a look that said he is merely humouring her, "I am a pacifist. While I believe in our honour-bound traditions. I cannot say that I feel the need to continuously prove my worth. Should the need arise I am more than capable of defending my kingdom." Allowing a pause, while he partook in refreshment. "I have no use for laurels; it just leads to swelled heads. As for the favour of a lady-she would have to be absolutely worth it and not some passing 'indulgence'." The last word was uttered with deliberate effect toward Vivian, summing up thousands of voices of salacious rumors and gossip. A shadow of hateful contempt flits through her gaze, followed by an impassive look. It shrouds her face, wrapping tightly so skin is tautly inexpressive but lips twitch with the barest suggestion of feeling.

King Olaf thumps his fist on the table, the hard resonance echoed in his rough declaration, strong and deadly sharp as steel. "There will be no more discussion. The conversation is to end."

The silence that descends is stifling and unpleasant. Nevertheless, it does not alter the character exuded by the inhabitants of the room. Arthur is clinging to aloof indifference. Nathanial is playfully mischievous despite signals warning him to be otherwise. Vivian conveys shuttered, detachment but it is apparent Nathanial has riled her up. She is reluctant to do anything but seethe. Alexia is relaxed, observing with cool composure. It is her brother who can elicit such a strong reaction especially when he is particularly grating on her frayed nerves.

The evening is drawing to a close and she is no closer to deeming another appropriate punishment that will lead to Arthur's downfall or at least his execution. King Olaf receives a cursory glance from the young devious sorceress. The king has relapsed into a pensive silence, lines deepening the surface of his face, giving him a sunken and moody countenance.

Vivian is not faring any better. Light from the torches adds iridescence to her hair and jewellery. The lush velvet of her gown sparkles with allure. Nevertheless, she shrinks and pales in comparison, looking very much like a small, petulant child grumbling over an inconsequential edict. Alexia was visited with the urge to shake her properly. How could she hope to extract her revenge when she continues to behave so-childishly. The agreement was that their combined talents would underscore their victory. Alexia certainly did not want to work with a simpering Vivian. Gritting her teeth, Alexia resolved to speak to the lady, if her interest was waning so earlier in the plot then there would be no further use to continue.

Avoidance comes easily to her. Vivian chooses it to deal with all the rude guests present. Viciously, she bites into the remainder of her dinner, though she tries to observe some maidenly dignity. The harsh taste of the spoon as sour and acrid as she feels to the pit of her stomach. Surprisingly, the fault lies not with Arthur as her nightmares had foretold but annoying Nathanial Ashford. The man is truly a despicably shameless ogre to behave in such a wanton manner. It slithered into her mind that it was retaliation for the ill treatment he had endured. Vivian promptly discarded that line of thought.

Arthur is solely responsible, her mind reaffirms. He is the enemy invited on friendly terms, an obligation for her to act genial. However, the man did not impose on his ownself the very same propriety, he has showed her not an ounce of respect, neither did he make a conciliatory gesture. Moreover, while she was excluded, the King received a certain amount of attention. Normally, Vivian would brush it aside, the reasoning being her father's intimidating, volatile personality. 'It would seem Arthur and King Olaf carried on a secret affair.' Vivian thought uncharitably at being so blatantly snubbed with extreme prejudice. Under her eyelashes, he is studied furtively, his posture and mannerism scrutinized with mild bitterness. It is indeed unfortunate that the man was gifted with an enchanting appearance. Firelight mellows his skin to the warm shade of honey, deep and rich. Eyed gleam with the liquid charm of magical azure stones. Lips, plump and sinfully kissable, raw with passion and gentle with need. Unbidden, a quick surge of lust spread through her. It is swiftly crushed by self-flagellation, wherein the most wretched moments of her spell-bound time is replayed. When her eyelashes flutter open, there is renewed purpose that can be discerned in her cerulean depths as vibrant intensity. The conversation that has commenced tentatively at the table carries on regardless and Vivian is left with a slight curve to her puckish mouth.

_Please read and review. I work hard on this, the least you kind souls can do is give me a little encouragement. It is very depressing when it seems you have one person on the review list. _


	7. Scorned Women

If she was truly honest, Alexia would admit albeit reluctantly that the rest of the night's performance was exemplary, her calm and an outward friendly demeanour had the effect of putting her father at ease. Once the outburst by Olaf had effectively put an end to the line of unpleasant conversation, the acrimony that tainted the atmosphere had dissipated and civility had resumed. Vivian was the most surprising. Alexia always held the opinion that the girl was too brazen and blasé, as spoiled princess are inclined to be-but never did it occur that she could be so two-faced. Telegraphing small significant smiles, girlishly blithe for Arthur, to give him the apt impression while ensuring her father was amused and placated.

When the men announced their departure for the evening, a wispy breath left Vivian as the weight trickles from her shoulders. It is such a bother to keep up pretences, every time their eyes met across the table, his sparkling and carefree, a surge of hot emotion erupted in her body and her fingers involuntarily stroke the cutlery knife. The cruel metal of the blade winking at her enticingly. Nevertheless, flirty smiles and a voice with the subtle lilt of desire are all the voluntary action she can allow.

When he decides to take leave, she follows him to exchange a few pleasantries. One hand carefully concealing the knife, cold and burning within her palm, in the folds of her dress.

"Vivian. It was a lovely supper." He tells her. "Yes, I will be happy to inform the cooks that the meal was to your liking." The words are flowing from her lips with an odd sort of blandness as if they are not from her but another person, a caricature that shares her high pitched voice ringing with false cordiality. No matter how hard she tries, she can't undo the stitching that keeps the smile in place. "It gives me great pleasure to see you again. Arthur. After what happened between us the last time."

"Yes." He cuts in quickly, clearing his throat, his gaze wavering, "It was indeed unfortunate." Vivian searches his countenance for an apology or regret, any trace that would redeem him in her eyes. There is none. Not a hint that would assuage her anguish. He wears such a manner of blameless fortitude that it irks her to say the least-without consequence he can meet her eyes and fashion words of an amiable nature as if she was a mere acquaintance. Not a woman he has defiled or a girl whose spirit he has broken with caustic lies. The fair, perfect noble prince who would one day be a better man than his father is a facade.

Nails dig into her flesh. It is with force she moves her mouth, jaw locked in simmering rage, to form the words, "Yes. Indeed." Swallowing the bitter ball of ash in her throat. "Well. Prince Arthur." Letting it loose like an unholy curse word, " For all the trouble I must have caused you-" The edge of the knife scraps the thin material of her gown. "I-"

"Vivian." Alexia appears by her side and grabs her arm in a manacle grip, "King Olaf asked me to give you a message." Said in a tone that brooked no argument, eyes boring into hers and was slightly taken aback by the hint of madness in Vivian's depths. It is apparent that the blond is not thinking lucidly, the devil's madness must have seized her mind for her to attempt-something so absurd. With a brief apology at Arthur, Alexia drags the girl away, a weak sound of protest hitting Alexia's ears. Arthur looks after them, nothing discernable in his gaze, then he moves onwards.

The echo of his footfalls lowers as they move farther away. Alexia confronts Vivian in the darkest corner she can find, turning on her with anger contorting her features. "What do you think you are doing?" Hissed reproachfully, giving her the full brunt of a typical harsh glower of judgemental disapproval. Vivian's face is set in a cool, aloof mask, determined to ward any admonishments she might receive. However, she cannot help the unconscious flinch at the radiating animosity.

"Do you want to get us caught before we can carry out our plan? What is the matter with you? " Bitter grief breaks onto her face, lips quiver as she dredges words from the vapid, hollow pit of her stomach, "He is not even a little sorry!" Snarled under her breath, "He enters my home, behaves so innocently. Lies to my father's face and practically insinuates that the entire incident was my fault." Her voice rises higher, with a tart edge of rancour, face warping, from serene beauty to ugly wrath.

Alexia raises an eyebrow archly, narrowing her eyes in quiet disdain, "Did you honestly expect anything less?" Looks down at her, all perfect white teeth and mirthless chuckling, "He is a man. More so a Prince. You are a princess who is known to be-impulsive and avaricious." Vivian averted her eyes, unable to hold the callous, mocking stare upon her. Alexia notices with dull amusement the twitching of the muscle belonging to her wrist. Almost reading her thoughts, fingers reach forward to encircle Vivian's wrist and then, plucks her hand from her pocket. A lightning of silver across the metal surface confirmed her worst suspicions. Anger should have overwhelmed her but instead, a still, impassive look drapes her features and warning twitches in Vivian's heart. "Honestly, I did expect better from you!" Shutting her eyes, letting a wave of vapid coolness wash over her. Voice is deceptively soft and gentle but stilted, almost on the rim of sarcastic. "It was a mistake-believing in you. Thinking you had a shred of dignity or enough guts to suffice for that hollow, primed little head of yours to make a wise enough decision. Apparently I couldn't have been more wrong in trusting you." Horror widens in Vivian's eyes, mouth open, aghast at the words that carry the acid sting of a wasp.

"What did you think you could have done to him? Vivian. With a cutlery knife no less. Would you have bought him to his knees? Would have had him appeal to your female compassion for forgiveness? I think not."

Vivian's chin tilts upwards, eyes full of defensive indignation but the pained crinkle at the corners of her eyes belies her strong response. Alexia effects a rueful sigh, trailing into a limp chuckle, "I was anticipating too much from your participation, Vivian. Perhaps you would be better off –No-you would be better suited playing the part of the coy princess." She certainly didn't mean it kindly; the abrasive curl of her tongue throws numb contempt over Vivian. The girl lets it soak into her limbs.

"Maybe there is something of your old reputation that is salvageable or you could always work on the kindness and pity of your suitors." Vivian is arrested to the spot, thoughts tripping over each other trying to come to a consensus on the next course of action. Trickles of icy chill weaves along the length of her spine and frigid water pumps in her veins. Alexia paints such a pathetic picture of a girl, a distraught and pitiful creature, forsaken and beaten, empty wood carved into shape with puppeteer strings. If Vivian knew it not to be herself, she would loathe the girl.

A crackle of hurt and it causes Alexia to pause but not out of mercy. No, Alexia may be truly exhausted with the young princess-find her distracting and sometimes irrevocably exasperating but there are moments. Perception alters in these cracks of time when this woman emerges, fearsome and dangerous with the air of a warrior.

As of now...

"My apologies." Vivian says, uneasily void of any emotion, icily treacherous like the arctic wasteland of the cold mountains. Eyes dark with absinthe fire, demonic innocence and sorrowful spite. "I was indeed too hasty with my decision. Arthur must pay dearly for this crime against me-against women-before another obstinate Prince attempts such fiendish trickery again."

The harsh lines of her mouth soften and her voice is unusually strong despite the careless words, "Do as you must!"

_**I am officially discontinuing this story. Sorry to those who liked it but lack of reviews and I do not feel it is going anyway. So no point! Thanks to those who reviewed and who like it!**_


	8. The Plot Thickens

_The sun filters through the iridescent wings of the butterfly fluttering across the meadow, effecting on its brothers and sisters so the sky is alive with colour. Admiration and wonder follows the graceful movements of the butterflies as they soar higher into the air to slowly separate to their own destination, that privy to only them. "Aren't they beautiful?" Her eyes sparkle like sapphires and the light sets her golden locks aflame. A bright, sunny smile dances on her lips, portrayed for her companion. The sun bestows on her a different beauty, deepening the hues of her hair to dark autumn, eyes glimmering with a thoughtful intensity, like the secrets of the world are hidden in her brown depths. The blond talks frivolously about the butterflies and animals hidden away in the nooks of the forest but there is no real substance to her words. The brunette knows this as she knows the difference between night and day but bonds of friendship helps her keep her silence, later the books would become a more suited companion and she will know the true goal of the mysterious creatures. Until then, the prattle is one with the sounds of the forest and she immerses herself in it. _

Eyes watch Vivian's back, the girl's stride is brisk and determined. It began with two girls in a meadow, the world consisting of the two of them, their thoughts and dreams. It is different then. The world had left their imprint and there is no changing destiny, no diverging from the sinner's path. A sly smile twitches at the edge of her lips. Once upon a time, Vivian was the perpetual princess, now she is a servant in servitude to a goddess. A warning voice rose in her gut remarked on her carelessness in allowing Lady Vivian to step forward but it is silenced quickly. It is an experiment. '_Let us see what the petty princess is capable of and if things end badly then all the more reason for her to trust only me faithfully.' _The cunning glint in her eyes belies the intentions she wooed Vivian with, it is a pity no one is in the vicinity to bear witness.

**At Arthur's chambers **

"So how was dinner?" Merlin inquires, curiosity colouring his scrutiny, "Did she leap across the table into your arms?" Arthur sends him his typical harsh glare of judgemental disapproval, " If you are looking to sleep in the stables Merlin. Keep it up and I will be happy to let the horses deal with you for the night." Merlin releases a small chuckle while the corner of his lips slides into a bemused grin. "Was it really that bad?" "No!" Arthur responds, "She was quite gracious through the evening even with Prince Nathanial having fun at her expense."

"She cannot have been happy about that!" Merlin's slight grin grows into a full, amused smile. He had heard from the other servants of the impish humour of Prince Nathanial, so Lady Vivian cannot have been pleased. Merlin was also given information on how the reigns of her passion for Arthur had consequently made her perform certain displays, some were flattering, others just pitiable but the majority just exceedingly hilarious. None of the servants were particularly sorry about the lady's embarrassment or demonstrated an inkling of shame. Having dealt with Lady Vivian, Merlin could not say he was all that surprised. Arthur was more than on one occasion the cause for the warlock's merriment.

"No, she wasn't but she handled herself well as can be expected." Arthur says, moving to change behind the divider. "So the spell is broken then. She is no more infatuated with you!" Merlin concludes. Arthur shakes his head but then realizing Merlin cannot see him, speaks up. "I am not sure. She appears to be over me but I think some feelings remain."

"That would be the opinion of your arrogance." Merlin quips.

Arthur pauses to shoot a look at his errant servant, honestly if he could only snatch a few moments of precious time to find someone less infuriating. "You were not there Merlin and I dare say letting you be seated at a royal dining table would probably be the worst social infraction ever." He emerges dressed in his sleeping wear. "There was just something about her that tells me she is still madly in love with me or at the very least has strong feelings about me."

"What kind of strong feelings?" Eyebrows peak in curiosity, there is something ominous about his words more so the expression on his face. Arthur's face is scrunched into intense perplexity as if he cannot fathom some great puzzle he has been presented with..or if the puzzle is good or bad. The afternoon came flooding back to Merlin, he believed Arthur saw something but what was the purpose of the vision or did it have a connection to Lady Vivian and her predicament?

"I do not know!" Rolling his broad shoulders languidly. Merlin can perceive cricks in the young Prince's neck, "Whatever it was-it would be good to continue avoiding her-for my health." Merlin feels the urge to laugh further at his discomfort, but chooses not to indulge it. "As you wish Sire! Shall I proceed to barricade the door so no more 'midnight rendezvous' may occur?" His facile undertaking a mischievous suggestive quirk. "Do as you must?" Arthur mutters, a ripple of annoyance and a touch of petulance, "Stay outside the door if you want!" Merlin laughs under his breath and turns to leave. "You should have seen her at dinner. There was something there." Thinking aloud, almost to himself but also for the benefit of Merlin, "Maybe because she resembles her blood-thirsty father so much that I swore I saw some of him in her." A shudder of cold foreboding descends Merlin's spine, condensing to ice in the spaces of his bones. "Anyway goodnight Merlin!" Arthur blows out the candle and the last vestiges of heat have left the room.

Merlin makes his way to his own room, thoughts in turmoil. 'There is something going on here! Is there a conspiracy against the Prince? A trap in order to ensure he returns Vivian's favour. What does that witch want? Honestly, between Morgana and Alexia-it feels like I am being stalked by evil, deranged witches. Whatever it is I have to protect Arthur-the future of Camelot rests with me. More so, I highly doubt the people will be 'alright' with **Vivian** as their Queen."


	9. Vivian Bites

Heart hammers in her chest. Sweat lightly dots her hairline. '_It is wrong. I cannot do this_.' Veins beat steady against her skin. The consequences roll in her head, every gory detail of her departure of this earth. Of course, Vivian is not naive enough to believe that plotting against the prince of Camelot, a crime, would go unpunished. How dreadful would it be? The loss of her riding privileges. A few days confined to her room. Forced to wear –shudder- sackcloth for a month. The grim possibilities are endless. Nevertheless, she perseveres through the tide of nerve-racking fear that threatens to overwhelm her. Fixed in her mind, Arthur is a vivid visage of mocking, careless scorn.

She clings to shadows, finding solace in its embrace. A few centimetres away, the moon spills silver onto the corridor from the high window. Briefly, she admires the radiant white disc that enthrals with simple beauty, partially distorted by window pane and for a second, her rancour abates replaced by a drop of tranquillity. Then she turns away and looks down the dark, narrow corridor. Larger and more Somewhere in the short distance. Arthur's room. Her rancour renews from the fountain of anger, bitterness and viciousness, constructed for the sake of her father, her lost reputation and vindication against the haughty prince. Footsteps continue their descent into the plan, aware of the danger and repercussions that closes in on her, intending to trap her within four walls of terrified despair. But no, she wouldn't let it slow her down. Revenge is the lust that throbs in her body, yearning to be satiated.

Grasping a handle on the door, she opens. Icy shivers down her spine as the creak resounds loudly in her ears. Vivian Balthazar. Arthur will remember that name for the fear it instils.

Discerning his form under the sheets, one eye is kept on him for hint of movement as she slinks across the floor to his wardrobe. Hesitantly, she climbs to her feet, wary and watchful. The warmth from the wardrobe absorbs some of the sweat and cold from her hands. Opening, she delves into its contents until she finds what she is looking for..It is coarse and rough. The scent of him clinging to it. She releases a soft, wispy breath. The worst part is over. Feet patter quickly away to escape. A snort freezes her to the spot. Stomach clenches in dread, fear washes her skin. There is no motion. No other sound. All is quiet. Relief lightens the load on her shoulders as she moves onwards. To complete the rest of her plan.

The fire dances on the wick, inviting. Its duty, reduces the object to a molten, bubbling mass of gold with a crimson tinge. She pours in just the right amount from the ladle, the twinkling green reflects in her eyes, bringing forth an effect that is almost ungodly evil. Pursing her lips, a razor-edged grin of ominous potency flitters on her mouth.

The cloth is draped on the table. Then, the ladle is swept outward to dispel the liquid across the material. It lines it nicely, the gold a stark contrast against the red. His cloth must carry drops of his own blood, sweat and maybe even..tears. Vivian shakes her head. Honestly, sometimes her mind just wanders on its own accord with nary a reason. On her command, the cloth obeys her and welcomes the latest admission, absorbing into its threads, disappearing from sight. She smiles down at it, all perfect white teeth and gleeful chuckling, the vibrant, burning glow of the candle lending a mad, malicious aura to her persona. Her face appearing warped by the fire into hellish depravity.

The next morning, Arthur awakens. The sun shines into his room, the light chasing the sleep from his eyes. He pulls himself into a sitting position, then drags a hand through his hair. He thinks of calling out to Merlin but then decides against it, he doesn't want to wait for his tardy servant. A red shirt catches his eye. One of his simpler garments. Uneasiness trickles into him that a plain shirt can make him-want it.

There are no other reasonable thoughts except his need to try on that shirt. It is too early to be trying on clothing; usually he would remain in contemplative repose until the arrival of Merlin to offer assistance. Once he shrugs it on, he can feel its texture stroke his skin in a hot caress, settling on his body like a heavy smog, almost wicked.

"Arthur, you're up-and you are almost dressed. I cannot decide if it is a good or bad sign!" Merlin enters the room and makes an observation from his master's partial state of undress. However, Arthur looks more perplexed than raring to go.

Arthur regards Merlin, a vague, almost baffled expression draping his handsome face. "It is nothing. Merlin. I just needed to wear this shirt!" Merlin shrugs, "It is a nice shirt." It snaps Arthur out of his morning daze. "If you have no better work than offer stupid compliments on my clothing, then you are truly a useless waste of space." He stalks forward with the intention to grab the breakfast tray from his servant. Something pushes his weight forward, a force from within him or outside, he couldn't discern the direction of the pressure, but it sends him flying into the eggs, bacon and bread, bringing them all to the floor.

As they lay there, his face in the food and the tray snuggled neatly in Merlin's lap, he is reminded why he hates his servant in the morning. "Sorry Arthur." When the prince though he was commiserating, Merlin replied, "I had no idea you were that hungry but if you will please understand, the table is for dining!" Doing nothing to keep the laughter from his voice.

The rest of the day did not fare so well either. There was something or someone provoking great misery and humiliation to befall Arthur. So far by afternoon, he had managed to convince everyone that he had gone completely mad.

Doubts niggled in his own mind if had maybe taken one too many hits when sparring with the knights. He actually hugged King Olaf, wrapped him tight and wouldn't let go. It was as if something secured his arms around the King's huge waistline. It took three guards to get Arthur off him. Even as the King's face turned bright red with barely restrained anger, Arthur could offer no satisfying explanation.

At first, everyone was sure it was magic. Then he tried to jump off the balcony screaming he was going to fly. Furthermore, insisting later that the event were highly misconstrued, accusing every person present of being wrong and deliberately maligning his image. He didn't say, 'I want to fly', he had screamed 'I hope I can fly!' it was wishful thinking, not a sign the prince was completely off his rocker. That wasn't even the highlight of his awful day.

It was when he started rubbing against all the knights' horses. He shut that appalling memory. The look on their faces. If news got back to his father..

He swore to remain in his room till nightfall. Merlin ruined the plan by stopping by to see him. "Arthur are you alright?" The prince kept his back to Merlin. "I do not know. Merlin" "But-" He gave voice to the ludicrous that turned in his mind, startling even himself, "I think it has something to do with this shirt." Tugging at the collar of it, angrily. Merlin raised an eyebrow in mild incredulity. "Then how else do you explain it!" Voice rising, "Something is controlling me-Forcing me to act like an idiot. It may be alright for you but for me-a prince it is abhorrent."

Impotent frustration underlines his frenzied tone, a fistful of cloth in his grasp. Merlin's gaze is full of companionable understanding and it had small effect on the prince, the sort of soothing sympathy a lonely person received from another.

"Maybe you should take it off." Merlin advised tentatively, mindful of the foul and volatile mood the prince was in.

"You don't think I have been trying!" Snapped angrily, throwing a dirty look in Merlin's direction before shifting his back firmly on him. Merlin watches his master's actions, as he practically wrestles with the offending fabric, aggravation rolling off him in palpable waves. Maybe it is a shirt that it responsible for Arthur's weird behaviour, there have been crazier things. He squints, thinking he perceives gold flecks scintillating on the shirt's surface. Arthur struggles to yank it off, then proceeds to vehemently attempt to rip it apart. Muscles bunch and strain with the effort. Thick coils of tension visible and it worried Merlin slightly. It is obviously to him that the shirt is somewhat enchanted. He knew it is a long shot but it is worth a try while Arthur is distracted. Moreso, as quickly as possible before another 'incident' occurred. Merlin's brow furrows in concentration, focusing, pinpointing his power on the shirt. Though it is increasingly hard because desperation has seized Arthur and he is furiously pulling at the cloth with the strength he possessed, in the process he had mastered what appeared to Merlin as a very intricate dance movement. Nevertheless, it would be some time before Arthur would be give public viewings. The words slip from his lips. Gold flickers in his irises. A flash of white light, so bright it burned their eyes. It travelled through their bodies, tingling and somehow stretching their solid matter. Reality felt like it was shrinking around them, turning to small particles of nothingness that is swept away by a sudden tumult wind. Then, clarity hits them hard, like a blunt force to the head. The first thing Merlin notices when his vision clears is the horse standing in front of him. "Arthur." Horror and dread floods his insides, a horrible churning began. "Merlin!" Arthur neighs, stamping his hooves in fury. Beady eyes smouldering as dangerously and bloodthirsty as some of the animals they met in the woods, "What did you do?" "I did not do anything, Sire." Merlin lies meekly, whining mournfully.


	10. From The Horses Mouth

"How did this happen?" Arthur rears on his hind legs and stamps his hooves angrily. Merlin backs away, accidently striking the table and spilling the contents onto the floor. The crash startled him and the animalistic side urges him to flee, run for safety, run for cover. He jumps, emitting a high-pitched frightened neigh. 'Merlin, calm yourself!" Arthur snaps, stepping forward, head moving sharply up and down in a calming gesture. The warlock forces restraint on the wayward side of him though privately he wants nothing more than to have a colossal breakdown or run to Gaius. He should go to Gaius. Again, the glint in Arthur's eyes arrests him to the spot. Gaius might be able to help. "How are we to get to Gaius? Merlin" Arthur's voice is saturated in bitter annoyance, "Do you suppose we are like Pegasus that we can just fly out the window?"

"No." Merlin mutters, bowing his head. Arthur horse is beautiful, a silky mane of gold brushes against fiery blue eyes. Eyes of a champion fighter. Powerful muscles line his sleek body, the colour a mixture of honey and cream. He is truly a glorious sight and Merlin is compelled by his own self-aware inferiority to lower his head in supplication. Apparently, the alpha male syndrome would ensure Merlin remained subservient to the Prince. The realization filters through Merlin, he grows peevish and agitated as a result. Arthur looks at Merlin, "What is it now?" "Just thinking about how we can change into human." Was the even reply.

"Well, any ideas?"

Merlin shakes his narrow head, bangs flying. Arthur meant to sigh but from a horse, it sounds like a snort, an exasperated snort. "So what do we do now? Come on, Merlin think of something useful!"

'So far the only useful thing you have done is ask stupid questions." The uncharitable thought passes through Merlin's mind as he makes the assumption without voicing it in his head that Arthur is behaving more like an ass than a horse. "Really and how exactly have you made yourself useful?" Arthur retorts with equal spite.

"You can read my thoughts!" Aghast and terrified at the mere suggestion. It would surely not turn out well for him.

"Of course, my situation has to get worse. I get treated to the private rantings of my idiot servant." Merlin humphs and silences more mean things that want to flutter in his head and relieve the stress of having such a master. "We cannot stay here."

Arthur tries to manoeuvre himself to at least face the door. Instead he bumps into the hard, wooded dresser and hurts his hindquarters on a stray stool. "This place is not exactly build for two horses." Merlin surmises, giving Arthur a look. The horse neighs at him and Merlin gets this strange feeling that he was trying to pronounce idiot. Hooves clack loudly on the floor. "What we need to do Merlin, is find a way out of here! Then we need to find a way to destroy the shirt." Merlin indicates with his snout the tatters of clothing on the floor. Arthur follows his gaze and notes that the shirt would not ever be a problem again. "Then we should probably-maybe we can-if we could." Thoughts fell over themselves, jumbling madly in his head; he struggles for clarity, to make sense of the insane situation. Merlin wants to commiserate, say something comforting but then remembering how testy Arthur horse is-he opts for silence and watching the frustrated animal attempt pacing in anguish within the small confines of the room. As the human Arthur was prone to do. It is an amusing sight.

Two harsh raps resound in the room. Merlin and Arthur freeze, icy chills of dread descend the curves of their back. "Arthur. Is everything alright?" Recognizing the harsh, blunt timbre of King Olaf. They share a glance between them, apprehensive dismay swirling, glowing forebodingly like pearls in their concave eyes. How were they ever going to get out of this mess? The door flies open with a bang, the king stalks in with two guards in tow. The first thought through Merlin's mind was that he had imagined it. It couldn't possibly be true. The event that had just transpired. Maybe it was a mirage. Surely, there was nothing in King Olaf's stare to provoke such a response from Arthur. The King was caught off guard, he had not been expecting to find a magnificent beast when he entered Arthur's chambers. He was furthermore knocked flat in shocked awe when it charged at him.


	11. The Life Of A Horse And Witches

The sun is rising, the golden rays pushing through the bars to splay on the ground. The prickle of the rays awakens Merlin and he releases a soft neigh as he raises his head, shaking it from side to side to relieve the muscles. He didn't know how horses slept standing up but now that he has tried it, he concludes it is not as difficult as he had thought. It isn't all bad being a horse; he did have a nice bath yesterday. Strong hands massaged tense muscles, easing the cricks he didn't know existed in his worn body.

"Merlin." A voice snarled, incense fueled from bitter resentment . If it was possible with his little eyes, Merlin would have rolled them. The worst part of this ordeal was being forced into a stall next to Arthur, who was behaving as if he had a bee stuck up his rear. When he wasn't whining or stamping his hooves, he was screaming in Merlin's mind. The high-strung vibrations causing a steady throb against Merlin's cranium, somehow in time with Arthur's timbre. Honestly, it was as if the man has completely lost his senses. Merlin had a generous soul and he would have gladly commiserated, but to be honest, Arthur bought it on himself. If he hadn't acted like such a wild, crazy horse, attacking the King, then running about the castle making an absolute nuisance of himself.

Merlin had caught a glint of the sharp blade of the drawn sword and immediately surrendered in a docile manner. Hence, he wasn't the one tied up in the stall, allowed very limited movement.

Arthur's scrapes his hoof against the floor, furious grunts accompanying his whole feral demeanour. "We need to get ourselves back to human form. Merlin."

"Really, because I hardly see any change in my position. I will still have to break my back for a selfish master and will not be getting any thanks in return. So, being a horse-not a big difference." Spoken with an exaggerated tone of nonchalance, dripping with sarcasm. Considering he had to put up with Arthur's outburst for most of the night, he felt it was within his rights to be snarky.

Arthur halts his small rampage, long enough to turn on Merlin, eyes hard with the fierce focus of a mountain lions, nostrils flaring. Merlin's lithe body shrinks and his tail is tucked between his legs. "Sorry, Arthur."

"Merlin." The dark horse can discern the tremor of annoyed frustration in his voice, though deceptively low as it resounds in his head. "If I hear one more insolent remark from you. Rest assured I will kick you!" Merlin falls silent, choosing to ignore the re-emergence of the testy horse.

The door is opened and Alexia stalks into the stable, walk purposeful and face drawn into an intense mask. Her eyes catch on Merlin's and a shudder ripples through his spine. There is an intimidating amount of magic that cackles like lightning, ready to be unleashed. She is definitely planning something. "What is it? Alexia. Where are you taking me? I thought we had plans for today, we were going to punish Arthur some more." At this, the mentioned horse stiffens before settling into a kind of restless calm. "Vivian did this to me? Are you serious?" Discreetly, Merlin shakes his head sadly. It is unfortunate that Arthur could be so dense sometimes.

"Why do I have to come along? Surely this is something you can do on your own." Vivian carps, skewering her face into an expression of absolute irritated dissatisfaction as she digs her heels into the barn floor, retarding their cohesive walk.

Alexia whirls on her, giving her the complete effect of a smouldering, impenetrable glower. Lips thinned and the words thick and hot were pushed from her narrow mouth. "If I could do this on my own-I would have no need to ask you. Regrettably, your presence is required." Her hand tightens on Vivian's wrist, testing the density of the bone. The princess tries to summon an sheepish smile instead it came out as a grimace, a pained one at that.

"We will take these horses." Gestures with her free hand towards Arthur and Merlin, "And we will leave now." Said in a tone that brooked no argument. Vivian nods, subdued, a strange sort of obedience takes a hold on her. "Good! Let us hurry. We will have plenty of time to punish Arthur Pendragon later." Was the dismissive response to the barrage of questions that had poisoned the air between them.

"Why? What in the world did I do to you?" Arthur neighs, visibly peeved that he should be punished when he is 'obviously' without fault. She makes a move towards the saddles but then stops, eyes full of fresh intrigue at the black horse. The animal appears to be watchful and wary. Blue eyes sparkle with something akin to human emotions. The shrill cry of Vivian interrupts the contemplative stare between the horse and her. "Alexia, What do I have to do? I don't know how to prep a horse."

Alexia let out a hiss of air, then spins on her heel to the direction of the horse riding equipment. "Don't bother straining you brain, Vivian. I know asking you to learn how to saddle a horse will be asking too much." Calls over her shoulder, brusque and curt.

"There are only two horses here." Vivian points out, "And one of them is tied up."

With trepidation, she moves closer to Arthur, "I hear he is a mad horse." Arthur stirs, snorts, but then returns to standing stock still as Vivian watches him cautiously.

Merlin could read his line of thought, if he played the horse part well, he could come along and overhear more of the dastardly acts planned against him. Vivian strokes Arthur's face, the motion (Arthur would not admit it) felt nice, almost comforting. However, he restrained from making a pleasurable sound because of his bias against the woman for all the humiliation she has heaped on him. "I will name you Buttercup!" She announces after a considerable time had passed admiring his coat. Arthur's body is overcome by rigid indignation and his head moves upward in a jarring action to throw her hand off his head. "I am a boy!Woman!" Yells loudly in almighty dignity and contempt lightly cradles his words. Beside him, Merlin laughs gaily, pleased with the turn of events, his joy surrounding and pecking at poor helpless Arthur.

Alexia silently observes the sudden change in mood of the two horses. The cords on the golden one's neck is stretched taut and his blue eyes blaze like an ocean storm, whilst the other dark one is animated and lively, head bouncing and tail swishing. There is something bizarre about the two animals. It would be wise not to take them, forseeing the dangers the trip would bring. However, seeing as they are the only two choices at the moment, there is no other alternative. Besides, at the very least maybe they will prove to be a lot more useful than Vivian. Alexia shakes her head sadly; the woman had the power to drive her to her wit's end. Currently, she is standing dumbstruck, eyes on the two horses with an almost perplexed glaze. Obviously and very idiotically, trying to decipher their thoughts by studying their actions. "Vivian." Keeping her aggravation light in her voice though it is tetchily exasperated, "If you do not hurry up-I promise to use the full power of my magic on you! Mostly the spells involving curses and monster transfigurations!" The girl drags her eyes from the sight of the two, then offers an embarassed grin, it is plastered on her round face, a defence agaisnt the harsh, sharp glare, as she made to join Alexia in the preparations for their mission.


End file.
